


An Open Window

by Tarlan



Series: One More Minute [2]
Category: The Rock (1996)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-27
Updated: 2006-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Anderson has gone home to lick his wounds and try to decide what he should do with the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Open Window

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Kathy B for checking over this story for me.

Charles Anderson, Senior, glanced across at his youngest son as they drove away from the San Francisco hospital, noting the lines of fatigue already forming on his face, and yet there was something else there too; something that had been missing these last few weeks.

"Sean?"

Charles Sean Anderson, Junior, glanced sideways; a fleeting eye contact that spoke volumes to the older man. There was a new light in those green eyes as if the dark cloud of guilt and regret had started to lift. He wondered what had brought about this slight change; wondered whether it was leaving the hospital that was the catalyst. Heaven knows he hated the places; hated the smell of disinfectant, hate the pristine floors and the bland food; hated the heavy air full of sickness and death.

He had spent the first couple of weeks sitting by Sean's bedside, watching his youngest fighting to live, wondering whether he'd ever see those soft green eyes open in recognition. Of all his boys, Sean had inherited his mother's eyes and, though she was dead these three years past, he could see a reflection of her whenever he looked into this son's face.

She had died in a hospital similar to the one they had just left. A car accident; no one's fault. The winter had been unusually harsh that year, the icy roads treacherous. He had spent four days by her side, watching the machines breathe for her until the doctors had, finally, convinced him that there was nothing left of her to save: brain-dead.

He never believed he would ever have to go through that again.

Charles Anderson chased away the nightmare vision of tubes and wires from his head and concentrated on the highway. This time he had been spared the grief of burying another loved one. This time he was bringing one of them home.

"Your brothers are waiting for us at the airport departure lounge. I thought it best if they made all the travelling arrangements; keep us from waiting around unduly."

Sean Anderson gave his father a brief smile. It had surprised him when only his father came to pick him up from the hospital. He had thought, maybe, that Patrick and Michael had taken an earlier flight home... but what his father said made sense. Despite his assertions to the contrary, he was already started to tire and he had done little more than walk to the rental.

****

There was an airport courtesy car waiting for them at the car rental drop-off point and, momentarily, Sean felt a buzz of foolish pride, wanting to insist that he could walk even though he knew he would have trouble crossing the street, let along the airport concourse.

"Commander Anderson?"

A young airport official stepped up to Charles Anderson, senior.

"You'll be wanting my son."

"Oh, my apologies." The official turned to face the silent and obviously invalid younger man. "I'll be your driver. I have directions to take you to the departure lounge."

"Fine. Thank you."

Anderson gave the man a tight-lipped smile, recognizing the need to accept the ride. They climbed on board the electric powered car and were soon weaving their way through the crowds.

****

 **A Few Hours Later:**

The flight was smooth... boring, in fact, with little to recommend it. His brothers did their best to liven it up for him, but he found himself drifting off, having exhausted himself by the short walk onto the aircraft.

His dream was no less vivid than usual, the bodies dancing to the same unnatural rhythm as they were riddled with bullets, the cries of pain and fear just as shrill... the same third eye appearing in his team mate's forehead as the younger SEAL stuck his head above the drain. Above it all, the cry of 'ceasefire' echoing as a background mantra to the staccato of gun fire.

"Sean? Sean!"

Hummel was above him, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, his blue eyes mocking him for being so stubborn, for not understanding that it had all been a bluff.

"Sean!"

He awoke with a start to find blue eyes, a shade darker, staring into his own; familiar arms gripping his shoulders. Fear and concern marred the seamed face that was close to his own.

"Dad?"

"You were having one doozy of a nightmare, there, Sean."

Sean Anderson glanced around, noting the sideways glances of nearby passengers; concern and trepidation obvious in their faces. He felt heat rush into his cheeks as he imagined his own reaction to seeing someone thrashing around, as if having a mad fit, in the confines of an airplane several thousand feet in the sky. He tried to give them a reassuring smile, but they turned away, afraid to make eye contact with a possible lunatic.

Anderson swallowed hard as he thought back to the same dream that had been haunting him for weeks. He had almost believed that the talk he had earlier with Mason would have chased this particular nightmare away, but then he realized that even knowing they had not died for nothing could not lessen the horror of those few minutes. Perhaps only time could heal that wound.

A small ping heralded the illumination of the 'fasten seat belts' sign; the bodiless voice on the tannoy informing them of their imminent arrival. Soon he would be home.

****

 **Anderson Ranch  
Nr Longmont, Colarado**

Home. Sean Anderson watched the familiar scenery passed by as he gazed out of the passenger window. He had not been home in almost 3 years - not since his mother's funeral. Nothing seemed to have changed; nothing ever did which was one of the reasons why he had left in the first place. It was the reason why he doubted he could remain too long.

He was coming home now to lick his wounds, to heal his body and soul... to give himself time to decide upon a new direction for his life now the one he had chosen was closed off to him. Whatever he decided to do he knew it had to be a mixture of both physical and intellectual. He couldn't handle the thought of sitting behind a desk all day; it would kill his spirit as surely as a bullet through the head would kill his body.

What the hell am I doing?

He remonstrated with himself. They hadn't even reached the ranch house and he was already stressing himself out. There would be plenty of time to contemplate his future; he didn't have to race into it at this very moment.

"You know, Sean. There's an old saying. 'When God closes a door He always leaves a window open somewhere in the house'. You just have to go look for that window."

Sean stared at his father as if the man were a mind-reader, wondering how he had known exactly what to say. He sighed. So, there he had it. All he had to do was go look for an open window, but was he trying to get into the house - or out of it?

****

 **Eight Weeks Later:**

He was seated on the rickety swing chair on the front porch, watching the antics of his brothers as they worked on the old storehouse, trying to make it weatherproof. He sat out here most days, resting after pushing himself through a strenuous routine of exercise. Already he felt far fitter, the weakness following his long stay in the hospital had already faded. He felt strong again, willing to take on the world... if only he could convince the world that he was ready.

He had checked out several career possibilities, but all had led to a dead end. The strict medicals called for 'whole' personnel and, through losing a kidney, he was considered a medical liability. So far he had ruled out law enforcement and the fire department but, somewhere, there had to be that open window his father had spoken of.

He thought about the nightmares that had plagued him since that terrible day. Over the weeks they had lessened in their intensity as he talked himself through the mission - and the facts - over and over. He incorporated everything Mason had told him about Hummel, about the mercenaries Hummel had unwittingly hired. He thought over a lot of things and yet, still, he could not quite believe that it might not all have been avoided given just that one more minute.

The sound of a horse galloping towards the ranch drew him from his introspection. Anderson stood up and strode to the edge of the porch as the rider viciously dragged the horse to a halt with a sharp pull on the rein. The rider, a young boy of about sixteen, jumped down from the saddle, eyes wild, hair awry. The horse's neck and flanks were covered in foamy sweat from what had been a long, hard ride. Had it not been for the panicked expression on the boy's face, Anderson would have remonstrated with him over his abuse of the horse.

"Need help!"

"Calm down. What's happened?"

"We were exploring the caverns - me and the Olsens. The roof collapsed. They're trapped underground."

"Where?"

"Over at Rock Creek."

Sean noticed his father standing right behind him.

"I'll go call for the rescue service at Longmont."

"It'll take them a few hours to get there."

Sean sighed angrily as his father raced inside to the phone. He beckoned his brothers closer and, within minutes, each was racing around collecting various pieces of equipment from ropes to flashlights. They piled everything into the 4-by-4.

Sean Anderson turned to the young man.

"We need you to direct us back there." He turned and shouted to a young ranch hand that had been working in the barn. "Jody? See to the horse."

Jody Banks raced forward and took up the reins. He led the exhausted animal away to be watered and rubbed down.

Less than ten minutes from the time Jerry had galloped up to the ranch house, they were heading out towards Rock Creek.

****

 **Twenty Minutes Later  
Rock Creek**

As a boy, Sean and his brothers had loved exploring the many caverns carved into the sandstone by subterranean streams. Many of those streams had dried up over the millennia; others had changed course or dropped into lower caverns. He remembered how they used to squeeze through the tiniest holes, wriggling deep underground with little more than a few nylon ropes and an old flashlight to guide their way. Their father had given them merry hell every time he caught them at it, but Sean had been attracted to the caverns, to the thrill of danger, his imagination turning them into hidden fortresses where evil dictators held innocent hostages.

Never once in all those adventures had there been even the slightest real fear for their safety; none of them had ever gained much more than a scratch. Now, as he raced towards the opening of the cavern taken by the boys, he realized the impetuousness of youth; the foolish notion that nothing bad would ever happen to them. Finally, he could understand why his father had tanned their hides when he discovered that they had been sneaking into the caverns against his wishes.

Jerry Martin led the way through the wide entrance; Sean made to follow but Michael's large-boned hand grabbed at him.

"Sean? Should you be doing this?"

"Who else?"

Michael and Patrick exchanged exasperated looks and carried on behind their younger brother, carrying some of the bulkier equipment. They were led deeper into the cavern system, until they reached a narrow fissure. Sean remembered this gap, he had been through it many times as a boy and realized that he could still fit, although it would be a tight squeeze. As to his brothers?

"Damn!"

Michael and Patrick gave each other a meaningful glance. They had their father's build; big-boned, broad shoulders... and they knew there was no way they could slip through the crack between the rocks. By comparison, Sean was much slighter in build, taking after their mother.

"Looks like I go on alone with Jerry. We'll play out a rope so there's no chance of getting lost."

Sean selected several items, hanging most from the utility belt strapped around his slim hips, and then slipped sideways into the gap, squeezing through with only a little effort. Jerry followed, negotiating the fissure with ease. A few minutes later they were on their bellies, slithering along as the ceiling became lower and lower. It became a tight squeeze for the bulier adult, but Sean remembered from his youth that this particular tunnel widened out in another five to ten feet. Eventually, they crawled out into a much larger chamber although the ceiling was far too low to allow either of them to stand. Sitting back on his haunches, Sean contemplated the small pool of icy cold water lying in front of them. He had been through it several times as a child; could remember the twists and the time it took to navigate to the next chamber; an underwater swim of perhaps ten, fifteen feet. Nothing compared to what he had done in recent years with the Navy SEALS.

Jerry pointed at the water.

"Just beyond here is where it collapsed. I was still in the pool at the time. Peter and Georgy were ahead of me."

"I want you to go back now." Sean raised a hand. "No buts. If there's another subsidence then you could get trapped in here along with the others. Go back and let my brothers know I've gone on."

Sean waited a moment until he was certain the boy was following his orders and then he slipped into the pool. He took a deep breath and sank beneath the icy water, kicking out, trailing the thin nylon rope behind him to act as a guideline later. When he surfaced he found himself face to face with the rock slide. He could see where Jerry had tried, frantically, to dig with his bare hands; small splashes of drying blood glistening on some of the rocks and pebbles.

There was barely enough room to leave the cold water but staying in it was not an option. He pulled himself out, sitting sideways against the rock slide and pulled the collapsible spade from the hook on his belt, snapping the short handle into place. He pulled a pair of gloves from a waterproof compartment and put them on. Then he started to dig, slow and easy, pushing the loose debris to the sides to make more space while constantly watching for any signs that the rest of the ceiling would collapse.

Once he had cleared away as much as possible, he decided to try to punch a hole through the debris, enough to ensure the boys would get some fresh air. Anderson pulled a hammer and rock chisel from a pouch and began to tap into the solid wall of debris, stopping often to survey the slide. He wanted to be certain his actions were not weakening the roof even further.

After he had channeled perhaps six inches inwards, Sean heard a sound, a tapping. He chipped in a little further and then heard weak voices.

"It's okay, I'm coming for you."

He added another few inches and then felt something give. Sean pulled back, a smile breaking across his face as he saw small but dirty fingers push into the hole from the other side, then part of a face appeared. At least one of the boys was still alive.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Air was getting a little thin... and I think Georgy's busted his arm. Otherwise, we're fine. Are you gonna be able to get us outta here, mister?"

Sean smiled reassuringly.

"Keep back from the hole - I'm going to try and enlarge it. Don't try anything on your side. I don't want the rest of the ceiling to come down on us."

"Okay."

With small, careful strokes, Anderson began to enlarge the hole downwards towards the ground, using larger pieces of rock to shore up the sides as the hole grew bigger. He stopped once he was certain the boys could squeeze through, not wanting to risk tampering with the debris any more than he had to. One by one, the boys wriggled through with Georgy first. SEAL emergency first aid training came in useful as he set about splinting the broken arm.

A sudden, slight tremor in the ground sent their eyes circling widely as more dust and debris fell from the ceiling overhead to lightly cover them. Sean looked at the frightened boys, his eyes alighting on the splinted arm, and then made a decision.

"I don't think we should wait around here any longer. We need to swim through to the other chamber. Do you feel up to it?"

Beneath the grime and dust the ashen face was etched with pain, but Georgy nodded his head bravely. Anderson smiled in approval and patted the boy's good shoulder in reassurance.

"There's a guide rope all the way through. Pull yourself along with it. Peter, you take point." Anderson turned to the injured boy. "We'll go together."

Anderson waited a minute before slipping into the water, using the time to tie the rope securely around Georgy's waist. He had wanted to wait just in case that last tremor had blocked the underwater passage but there was no sign of Peter returning, which boded well. He gave the remaining boy a smile.

"Just you and me now. I'll go first, then I'll be able to pull you along behind me. If anything seems to go wrong, don't panic. I'll pull you through. Okay?" The boy nodded his head, swallowing hard against the fear that crept into his face. "On the count of three I want you to take a deep breath. One. Two. Three."

They sank beneath the icy water and Sean pulled against the guideline with one hand, letting the other remain wrapped around the rope close to the boy's body, pulling him along with him. He faltered momentarily when his hand failed to find the rope, having let go during one of the forward motions but, after a second or two of fumbling, he located it with his questing fingertips and carried on, still pulling Peter behind him. Ahead he could see a light and knew it was from Peter's torch. He aimed for it and dragged a deep breath into his lungs as his face broke the surface. Beside him Peter was also gasping for air, their heavy breathing filling the low-ceilinged chamber.

Another ominous rumble followed, the ground trembling around them, sending plumes of dust into the air. They coughed to clear their lungs and then Anderson pointed ahead of them. Only the tunnel to negotiate now.

Knowing he was the largest and therefore the most likely to get stuck if the tunnel had suffered any minor damage, he sent the boys through first, following directly behind the injured boy. He could hear Georgy cry out softly with every movement as his arm impacted with the sides and floor, and he wished he had one of the field medical kits containing the powerful analgesics.

"You're doing good, Georgy. Soon be out of here."

Another rumble stopped them in their tracks and Anderson could hear the sound of rocks and pebbles shifting - but was it behind or ahead of them? The sound seemed to come from all directions. Part of the answer came a few minutes later when Peter yelled back.

"Mister? The tunnel's collapsed some ahead of me. I can still get through but it might be too much of a squeeze for anyone bigger."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Keep going."

They came to a halt, the light from Anderson's torch doing little except to light up the legs and rear of the injured boy crawling, painfully, ahead of him. Moments later they moved forward the equivalent length of a prone body. Obviously, Peter had reached the constriction and negotiated it successfully. With a sigh, Anderson wished the tunnel were wide enough for the Olsen boy to turn around and help his brother. As it was, he had to hope that Georgy lasted a little longer, knowing that the boy must be moving along on adrenaline alone. If Georgy gave into the pain now, if the boy slipped into unconsciousness, then there was little Sean coud do to help either of them.

With a cry of pain, Georgy shuffled through the narrowed passageway leaving Anderson on his own facing the tiny aperture. He yelled forward to the boys.

"Keep going... I'll try to follow."

With care, Anderson began to pull away some of the smaller rocks, pushing the debris behind him until the hole looked big enough to try and squeeze through. Years of SEAL training came to the rescue again as he used his knowledge to thin out his body, rolling in his shoulders and wiggling like a worm, inch by inch until he could gain enough purchase with his fingers to pull himself through. His hips stuck and he cursed himself for forgetting to remove the small utility belt. He pushed backwards until he could move one arm, untied the belt and left it behind as he wriggled forward once more. Rolling his shoulders inwards, he inched forward. Again, he was stuck but not so firmly. His fingers scrabbled at the floor ahead of him, trying to find purchase. He jumped, startled by the warm fingers that gripped his own and looked up to see a grubby face ahead of him.

It was Peter.

The boy grinned, bracing himself as Anderson used the boy to haul himself through the tight gap... and then he was free.

Peter slithered backwards in an awkward motion, gradually rising to hands and knees as the ceiling rose a few inches at a time. Another few feet and they were out of the tunnel and back into the large chamber. A stronger tremble moved through the ground under their feet, a deep rumble filling the air around them. A cloud of dust burst from the tunnel entrance as part of the tunnel collapsed beneath tons of solid rock.

Sean looked into the dark eyes in realization. Once more he had been snatched from the jaws of death by someone being in the right place at the right time.

"Thank you."

The boy smiled and turned away in embarrassment, heading towards the narrow fissure that led to the larger caverns beyond. Familiar, large hands grabbed at Sean as he squeezed through, pulling him into a bear hug.

"Dammit, Sean. We thought we lost you. Reckon the whole system just collapsed. Thought you were caught in it."

"I'm fine... I'm fine."

Michael Anderson gave his brother another firm hug and then pushed him into his other brother's arms. Together they staggered out of the caverns.

****

 **The Following Day:**

Charles Sean Anderson turned over in his bed, squinting at the bright rays falling through the slits in the curtains. For the first time in months he had not suffered through the nightmare from that terrifying day on Alcatraz. He wondered why.

Had he, somehow, atoned for his mistake by saving those boys?

His thoughts returned to the past. One more minute. He had believed that, given one more minute, he would have been able to persuade Hummel to give up his lunacy, to back down, but Mason was right. Hummel never had any intention of firing those rockets of VX gas at San Francisco. It had all been a bluff, a dangerous bluff that had backfired on them all. Anderson's men had been doomed the moment they stepped into the shower room, and not one minute - or one hour - would have altered the outcome.

In contrast, one minute had meant the difference between life and death for himself and the Olsen boys. One more minute in that tunnel and they would have been buried beneath tons of rock.

He sat up and looked about him. Until today he had no clear idea of what he was going to do with the rest of his life but, what was it Mason had said? "A prison isn't always made of steel bars and masonry."

He looked across the room at the pile of rejection notices from various law enforcement and rescue services, having failed the medicals due to his kidney loss. Mason had also said "don't chain yourself to the past." Was that what he was doing? Trying to find a career similar to what he had lost?

He thought about the disaster that had befallen the two boys, thought about the various agencies set up to deal with such disasters both on a small and on a large scale. There was more to them than just the man in the tunnel digging out the survivors, and he had never had such a large ego that he *needed* to be the hero of the moment. He just did what he had to do.

His father's words came back to him as he contemplated a complete change of career. Was this the window left open when the door had slammed shut in his face?

Later today he would make inquiries, check out the medical requirements of these other options. Most of them required a fair amount of time behind a desk but there was also plenty of travel involved, looking at new life-saving equipment, assessing risks in disaster-prone areas.

He smiled, feeling a tendril of hope for the first time in weeks. Somehow, he knew that one of these options would work out just fine.

THE END 


End file.
